


The Art of Looking Nothing but Your Best

by callboxkat



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cute, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22733107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: Roman’s got a hot date and Virgil’s determined to make sure he looks his best.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Prinxiety, platonic Prinxiety
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	The Art of Looking Nothing but Your Best

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt sent by @skeletonsloverockcandy on tumblr, from a list by @lefaystrent

“I’ve got more!” Virgil announces, marching into the dressing room area. “Are you ready?”

A slightly muffled voice responds from within one of the larger dressing rooms. “I’m topless and terrified.”

Virgil yeets the new shirts over the door, earning a squawk and a clatter as Roman catches the garments.

“You better show me everything,” Virgil warns. “We’ve got to make sure you look good.”

“I always look good, and you know it!” Roman claims.

Virgil makes a doubtful noise.

“Hey!”

“Okay, okay, fine. You always look _good_ , but we’ve got to make sure you look your _best_.”

“As long as my outfit highlights my natural charms, everything should go splendidly.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, don’t let your head get too big, or you’ll get it stuck in one of those shirts.”

Roman pulls on the first shirt, a red and gold muscle shirt, and admires it in the mirror, sticking out his lip in a pout Virgil can’t see. “Are you calling me fat?”

“No, I’m saying you have a big head. There’s a difference.”

The lock clicks, and Roman opens the door to show Virgil his outfit.

“Hmm.”

“No?”

“It’s not _bad_ … but you do kind of look like you’re going to go cow tipping, not for a fancy dinner.”

Roman immediately slams the door shut. “Definitely not.”

He tries a soft, metallic gold long sleeved shirt next. When he opens the door, Virgil squints and shakes his head.

“No, no, no. Take that off. You’re going to blind him.”

“Ah, I see. With my dazzling smile, it’s just too much.”

Virgil huffs out a laugh. “Sure, Princey. Next.”

Several more outfits later, and they are no closer to finding the right one. If Roman liked an outfit, Virgil didn’t, and if Virgil approved, Roman did not.

“ _You_ picked these out,” Roman complains, pawing through the remaining shirts. “How can you not like them?”

“Don’t put this one me!” Virgil says, crossing his arms. “They look different on the hanger. I’m not psychic.”

“Are you sure? Because this feels like psychic torture.”

“You mean psychological torture?”

“Don’t you use your words at me!”

Virgil stifles a laugh.

A moment passes, silent save for the rustle of fabric and clinking of hangers. Then that stops.

“Virgil?”

“….”

“Virgil, did you leave? Because I swear, if you ditch me at this mall, I’m going to go to Hot Topic and buy all their MCR merch just so you can’t have any.”

Virgil cracks a grin. “Okay, rich guy,” he snorts. “Good luck with that. There’s still Spencers. And the internet.”

Roman smacks the inside of the door. “Don’t do that! I thought you left!”

“You told me not to use my words at you,” Virgil shrugs, smirking.

Roman opens the door, pouting at him. He’s wearing a black jacket now, with a red, almost maroon shirt underneath.

“Hey, if you lose the pout, that one’s not bad,” Virgil comments, looking him up and down. “Maybe add some pins… How tied are you to red?”

“Very. Red is the color of _pasión_! Roman claims dramatically, nearly hitting Virgil as he accentuates his words with his hands.

“You tried on gold earlier.”

“A regal, refined, triumphant hue!”

“Okay, I get it. But, hey, purple used to be reserved for royalty.” Virgil gestures at his own distressed shirt, patchwork hoodie, and band-pin-covered beanie.

“Hm, that’s more your deal. And you are not turning me into an emo nightmare for this date!”

Virgil snaps his fingers, feigning disappointment. “Darn.”

“So, what about this one? Good?”

“It’s okay,” Virgil concedes. “Just… missing something. What are you thinking for, like, pants or whatever?”

Roman bites his lip. “Well….” He shakes his head. “Probably just dress pants or something.”

“No, what were you thinking?”

Roman sighs through his nose. “Well, I was thinking maybe… a skirt?”

“Yeah? That could be cool.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to be… You know, some people would be… put off by that.”

“You wear skirts all the time, though.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges.

“If he’s not cool with you wearing skirts then he’s not right for you. That’s just how it is.”

Roman shifts his socked feet on the floor. Virgil folds his arms and watches him.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Only because I’m always right.”

“No comment.”

Five minutes later, Roman steps out of the dressing room, wearing a dark red shirt, the black jacket, a layered black skirt, and ankle-height boots in the same shade of red as the shirt. He looks up at Virgil, clearly nervous about his reaction.

“Hell yeah,” Virgil says, grinning. “You’re going to sweep him off his feet.”

Roman grins back at him.


End file.
